Evolution
by Night Dawn
Summary: A killer. That's what he is. A killer. What made him like that though? Slight Cato/Clove


Evolution

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own the Hunger Games; this is just a weird experiment I had to try.**

_My brother_

"Stop it! Stop it!" I yell. I wave my hands in the shorter peacekeeper's face, but he swats them away.

"Your brother protested against the Hunger Games, Mr. Black, and the penalty is death," he says calmly and my face scrunches up.

"That's not fair! He didn't do anything!"

"Keep talking and your penalty will also be death." He smiles malevolently at me and I growl at him until my mother puts a calming hand on my shoulder.

"Cato, shush." She stands in front of me as if to shield me, but when she thinks I'm not looking, she and my brother share a desperate look. Then the peacekeepers haul him off and toward the middle of the public square. It's just cruel that they make us watch.

"Hey," I yell, "wait." I run forward and clutch Hammil's leg.

"Cato," my brother's sharp blue eyes stare down at me. "Let go."

"But they'll kill you!" I hiss. Does he really think his life holds so little value?

Hammil laughs and I can almost detect a maniacal undertone to it. "Of course they will," he chortles, "but think of this as a warning."

"Hey," the taller peacekeeper barks. "Let go, kid."

We both ignore him. "Look Cato, they're going to kill me, but this is how it is. You can't win a war without killing anyone," Hammil says.

My eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"Take up the torch when I'm gone, and slaughter a few Capitol idiots for me, will you?"

"Enough," the short peacekeeper roars. He yanks Hammil out of my weak grasp and pulls him toward the wickedly sharp looking instrument in the middle. "You have already broken the law; do you want your family to suffer because of your disobedience?"

"No, but maybe for their own disobedience. That would be okay." I hear my brother answer.

"Give him a few shocks before," the first peacekeeper grunts. I want to rip out his beard instantly. But before I get to that part, Mother's arms encircle me from behind. I hadn't even noticed that she'd followed me.

"Don't look," she murmurs into my ear. I turn away. As if I'd want to see my flesh and blood executed.

"Do you know why he protested?" Mother asks. Her voice is quiet and underlying with pain. I don't blame her.

I bury my face deeper and mumble "No." It doesn't drown out the painful screams though.

"It was for justice, Cato, and for you."

"Me?" I whisper.

"Yes." Mother's blue eyes are gentle. "Remember what he said to you."

"Kill a few Capitol citizens?" I ask. The screams almost drown out my words, but I don't dare turn around and look.

"No, Cato. It isn't war yet, but it soon will be. You can't win without deaths." She says softly.

"Mother, what do you mean? That _I'll _have to kill some day?"

But she doesn't answer, only gaze out into the distance, in some kind of trance. It's the trance that she'll stay in until she dies.

_Clove _

Just as I reach up to the door, it swings open and reveals a petite dark haired girl armed with an assortment of knives. I scowl.

"How did you know I was there?"

She smiles sarcastically. "Oh I just know, Blondie, I just know."

"Shut up Four-leaf-clover," I mutter. "It's not like you didn't plan everything to the last second."

She shrugs. "If you're finished your little hissy fit-"

"-That was not a hissy fit," I grumble.

"Yes, yes it was, Cato darling, now don't be sad." Clove chides. Her customary smirk is on her face and I instantly want to wipe it off, permanently.

"Of course,_ Clovey_." She hates that nickname, I know, so it's sure to get a reaction. It doesn't.

Instead, she shrugs again. "Why are you here? I'm training right now."

"Training ended three hours ago," I point out.

"That must mean you need training, if you're still here," Clove says. I will never understand how she can twist my own words against me. Luckily, she's all talk and no play, usually. Other times… I think she'll really follow up with her threats.

"No," I say. "_You_ must need training, if _you're_ still here. I'm only here to deliver a message from Coach."

"Oh?" She tilts her head curiously. "What did he say?" She flicks a strand of dark hair out of her eyes and actually looks interested, how phenomenal.

"Just to meet him in his office-"I begin, but Clove cuts me off.

"Fabulous," she smiles. "He can wait."

I gape at her. "What?" I know she hates limitations, but blatant disobedience? Coach will wring her neck! On second thought… I don't really mind. Clove infuriates me like no one else.

She backs away from the doorway and I step into the Weapons room. Its grey concrete walls look drab like usual, and the only splash of color is the metallic gleam of the sharper objects and the dark brown of the wooden bow in the corner.

"Here," She plucks a sword off the left wall and tosses it to me. "Let's spar."

I automatically catch it. "Wai-"

But a knife is already flying at me and I dodge clumsily. Another one comes to my left and then my right. A sharp edge skims my cheek and I hit the floor as another knife flies over my head.

"Clove," I yell. "What are you doing?"

She smiles tightly. "You don't know me as well as you think you do, Cato."

A knife with a double edge grazes my right arm and I switch the sword to my other appendage.

"Apparently not," I mutter and duck another knife. How hasn't she run out yet?

Clove tilts her head and a bronze knife lands in the spot my head was a second ago. She grabs a dagger off a nearby wall and twirls it. "What do you know about love, Cato?"

Is she getting sadistic pleasure out of this? Asking stupid questions in the middle of a fight? I gape at her, and nearly forget to duck as a knife flies over my head. "I don't think now's a time to ask those kind of mushy questions!" I yell.

"No, you're right, it isn't." She's not even panting and I'm sweating like a donkey. "Do you remember Jonquil?" she asks, seemingly at random.

For the moment, her knife is on hold and I realize that it isn't a rhetorical question. I nod. "Jonquil… she's in a better place now."

"Dead." Clove's emerald gaze meets mine squarely. "You remember, don't you Cato? I killed her."

My mouth feels dry and my hands clammy. I've never been nervous like I am now. "That was an accident. Your knife aim was just off a bit and she dodged incorrectly."

I can easily remember the incident because it wasn't so long ago. Clove's knives are always real, even in a mock fight, and they accidently ended up in Jonquil's heart.

"Wrong." There is no guilt in those luminescent orbs that have attracted so many compliments. "I didn't illustrate her death, but she means nothing to me."

I swallow. "But you didn't mean to kill her… right?"

"No," Clove smiles slightly. "I didn't, but that doesn't mean I feel guilty about it."

"You," I gasp.

"I'm a psychopath, Cato, clinically. I know no love."

"I," I stammer. "What about your parents?"

She twirls the dagger in her hands idly with pale, slender fingers. "Fake, I'm an orphan." For a moment, her eyes are wistful. "If I had parents…"

"W-why are you telling me this?" I ask as steadily as I can.

She smiles again, but this time, it's not cold or feral. It's a bland smile. "A warning, it serves as a warning. I can kill, Cato, and I will do so without hesitation. In the arena, you can't hesitate."

"The arena?" My eyes widen. "You're volunteering this year?"

"Yes, Stupid." She rolls her eyes and suddenly she's just normal Clove again. "So are you."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are." She nods. "Take it as a warning." Her eyes soften. "You can't win the Hunger Games without killing, Cato."

I take her words to heart.

_My father_

"Cato." My father sounds pleased. "I heard you're going to volunteer in this year's Hunger Games."

I nod slightly and shovel another spoonful of cereal into my mouth. "I'm kind of running late," I say. "If there's something you have to tell me…"

Then, suddenly, he's on his feet. "There is as a matter of fact."

"…you can talk to me later." I finish.

"No." His eyes are silvery disks. "This is important."

"But," I protest. It dies in my mouth as soon as I see Father's face.

"Cato." He grips my shoulders tightly and spins me around slightly in my chair. I narrowly avoid smashing into the granite countertop. "Today is the anniversary of Hammil's death. Do you know where Eluvia is?"

"Mother?" I swallow. She hasn't been well, that's for sure, not since Hammil's death.

"She's in mourning and depressed, as she has been ever since your brother died." He turns on me, eyes burning with liquid fire. "This is your fault."

"What?" I choke. "How?"

"You were what made Hammil protest. He didn't want you to get reaped! And you?" Father's hands drop, as if he's disgusted with me. "You're just a failure, a loser."

"What do you mean?"I ask frantically.

"You can't even fight for them and you won't kill for them. That's all you are and ever will be- a failure."

I hop off the chair. "That's not fair. They're my family too." Now I'm yelling. "I grieved for them too! You're not the only one who felt that pain!"

"Yes. Yes I am. Win the Hunger Games boy, and maybe I'll believe you."

"Then," I take a deep breath, "Innocent people would have to die." My voice rises to a shriek. "Innocent children!"

"Close your mouth, boy. They'll have to," Father snaps.

"That's sick. You support them? The Capitol is what killed Hammil!" Not only do they kill my brother, they brainwash my father too.

"No, you killed Hammil, boy. And Eluvia too on the long run. You're a killer already; a couple more won't be an issue."

A killer already-_ I'm_ a killer already. I close my eyes and hope that it's just a dream. It isn't. Father's still standing there, and I'm still going to be late for training. Either luck really hates me or fate really hates me, maybe both.

"Prove to me, Cato, that you're not a failure."

I swallow and a bad taste fills my mouth. "I'm not a failure Father." I'm not. I won't ever be. I _have_ to win the 74th Hunger Games. Kill or no kill, it's not a choice for me anymore.

_Brutus_

"Cato, try not to kill them, will you? Marvel happens to be needed for the 74th Hunger Games. Killing him won't help you win."

"Right," I grunt, but mostly, my mind is wandering.

Remembering how I held that spear, the bloodlust and the feeling of nearly slicing Marvel's arm off. I can hardly remember why that as a kid, I hated death. That isn't to say I like killing, only that it's necessary. That's what Hammil and Mother were trying to tell me, right?

"Cato. Cato." Brutus prods my shoulder and it jolts me out of my thoughts. "Don't get distracted, constant vigilance is important."

"Sprouting Alastor Moody now?" I smirk.

"What?" He looks confused and so I sigh.

"Never mind."

"Listen, you have the right frame of mind to win, I know you do. You'll have to handle the Career pack well and you'll surely win if you can do that."

"Is Enobaria telling Clove the exact same things next door?" I ask lazily, rolling my eyes.

"You know, you're different from what you were before." Brutus' sharp eyes access me.

"So?" Outwardly, I shrug, but my insides are in turmoil. Has he discovered? That after the first hint of blood starts I can't stop? That at first all I wanted to do was prove that I wasn't a failure to my father and now… I don't know what I feel. Is this what Clove feels like all the time? It must suck being a psychopath.

"But it doesn't matter. You want to win the games, right Cato?"

I nod slowly.

"Then keep this mindset, and don't be afraid," he continues. "The games always draw out their tributes' dark sides. Fight against it, and the current will drown you. Swim with it and you will drown others."

I mentally take in this piece of advice.

"Win the Hunger Games Cato, I know you can come home."

Home, right, home. That's what I'm doing this for. Not because I want to see them scream and writhe. Not because I want them to pay. I want to go home.

_Katniss Everdeen_

The Girl on Fire _is _inspiring, I realize as she smiles at the audience. A slight blush tinges her cheeks as she sits on the couch in a flaming dress. The Capitol and Caesar Flickerman are both suitably stunned and I'm really no exception-except for the fact that Katniss Everdeen inspires me to rip her throat out.

She's not really like that, I note. She's a survivor, not a giggly teenage girl twirling in dresses. But her real personality is kept under the wraps, probably because it's as charismatic as a dead slug. I can appreciate that, because I've kept the personality as an insane killer under the wraps too.

"What are you thinking about?" Clove asks from my left. The color of her dress brings out her eyes, but her appearance is dimmed by the Fire Girl, who is still talking on stage.

"Just listing how many ways I can kill Katniss Everdeen," I reply.

"Oh? I thought you couldn't stomach killing people."

Under the wraps, I remind myself and when I next speak I have to work to keep my voice steady. "That's not what the crowd thinks."

"No, it isn't." Clove's intense green eyes scrutinize me and I shift uncomfortably. She's always been more perceptive than anyone else.

"Katniss Everdeen affects you," she says at last.

I frown at her. "What? She has Lover Boy you realize."

A smirk briefly crosses her lips. "Not like that. I simply meant that she brings your bloodlust out."

"Bloodlust," I repeat, trying the word on my tongue. "Where did you get that?"

Clove tilts her head slightly, considering. "She quickens the poison, it's spreading faster now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I snap.

"Oh?" Clove's intense gaze clashes with my sapphire eyes. "Don't you?"

I frown. What could _poison_ possibly mean? "No," I say.

"Oh." Clove yawns. "If you don't know then I can't tell you."

Instead of trying to decipher Clove's riddles, I look back up to the platform, and my eyes are instinctively drawn toward the District 12 female tribute. Her dress is truly a work of art as she whirls in it, and the Girl on Fire once again proves herself true to her name. Tonight, her eyes are diamonds instead of lumps of coal and her hair is a glossy black sheen.

"Katniss Everdeen has nice eyes," I comment offhandedly.

"Oh?" Clove nods distractedly and she seems to be assessing the center of attention for weaknesses instead of admiring her like everyone else. She would do that.

"They'd look good in my collection," I continue. "What do you think?"

That gets her attention and Clove shoots me a rare smile, though the cause isn't anything close to true happiness.

"I think," she says, "you should shut up and let me plan. The Careers aren't going to dominate the arena if you keep daydreaming."

I scoff at her but shut up anyway. Let Clove do the planning, I'll do the killing. I can't wait to stand over the Girl on Fire and stab her, right through the gut. Let her bleed internally to death, and even better… with Lover Boy watching her. They'll both go down with one strike of my sword and I'll be there, laughing.

Lover boy's right, I decide. Katniss Everdeen is really something. Whereas in one person she inspires fierce love, she inspires intense _hate_ in the next.

_The Hunger Games_

Clove's head falls limply in my arms and I change my position so that I'm cradling her. Hot sticky liquid drips onto my finger and immediately I know it's blood- Clove's blood.

"Hey," I whisper. "Wake up. Just stay awake for a little while and either Brutus or Enobaria will send medicine and gauze."

Clove's green eyes flutter open and she coughs up blood. "No," she mumbles and then promptly closes her eyes again.

I shift, annoyed and her head hits the floor with a crack. I almost feel guilty until her eyes fly open and I detect some sort of emotion in them. Hate? No, it's not hate, it's fire. It's burning, green flames licking at everything it sees.

"Cato," she manages to croak. The Capitol is probably getting a kick out of this, I think nastily. I want to block out all their cameras, but I can't.

"Shush, Clove." It isn't fair that she'll die now. She could have done so much more.

"No, Cato, listen. Don't succumb to the poison," Clove grounds out. Her sentence turns into hacking coughs. I vaguely recall a conversation about poison, but nothing really touches my mind.

"Clove, I don't understand." And after a moment, I add, "Don't tire yourself."

"It's okay Cato," she smiles faintly. "I'm going to die. There'll be love, lots of love in heaven."

For a moment, anger surges through me, coursing through my veins. The District 11 boy, Thresh, he did this. He'll pay for it. The Fire Girl too, they'll pay, they'll both pay!

Clove blinks at me, and I'm drawn back to the present. She's mostly murmuring to herself now, but she turns when I speak.

"I'll get revenge for you. Thresh is as good as dead." I glance toward the wheat fields, where I'm sure he's hiding. Not for long though. Soon he'll be there lying on his back, bloody and glassy eyed. I'll be in the forest, hunting Fire Girl and Lover Boy, triumphant at the thought of one more kill. Pride to my district, my family, and a tribute to Clove.

"No. Cato, I said fight the poison. You're still in there somewhere, I know it." Clove's voice is almost hysterical, and the flames burn more brightly than ever. In that instant, I can almost believe that she won't die, that she's not already gone. _And in the same moment, I realize what poison she means._

"I can't," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

"I thought…" Clove looks frustrated. "I thought telling you would have warned you enough. I never knew love yet you knew it and you threw it away."

"They took it away from me!" I yell. I nearly slam my fist onto the ground, but I don't.

"It doesn't matter," Clove murmurs. "You'll understand, soon." Her eyes shimmer suspiciously and I wonder if they're tears. Clove, who has never cried a single drop in her life, is crying now.

"Is that a goodbye?" I demand. "That's hardly fair!"

"_No, but this is." Clove weakly holds onto me and manages to pull me down until my lips crush hers._

_It only lasts for a few heartbeats, and instead of a really fuzzy feeling in my stomach, all I feel is the urge to wring Thresh's neck. It's not really a kiss of happiness; instead, it's fire, and revenge._

_It's Clove who pulls away first and she manages to say a last word before she goes slack in my arms._

"Fight-"

Then the life drains out of her emerald eyes and I set her down gently. A cannon booms in the distance, but I don't really hear it. All I know is that the winner of the 74_th__ Hunger Games will be me._


End file.
